


Letting Go

by Nifflers_n_nargles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise in costume, Confessions via song, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Firewhiskey, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Karaoke, M/M, Outrageous song choices, discovering feelings, lots of firewhiskey, prince - Freeform, snark and sass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_n_nargles/pseuds/Nifflers_n_nargles
Summary: A drunken night of karaoke leads to confessions Draco Malfoy never intended to make.





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> All love to Ra Ra Riot for their delightful version of Steve Winwood’s “Valerie” which inspired this little jaunt. 
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing beta and writing love, James, without you this would be thin. Also thanks to @goldentruth13 for being so kind to a new fic writer and for inspiring me to do this without even realizing it. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @nifflers-n-nargles for more of my nonsense.

Draco Malfoy most definitely would not be singing tonight - no matter what Blaise insisted, the prat.

“I don’t know what you’re on about Zabini, Malfoy’s do not sing in bars” Draco sniffed.

“Live a little, Malfoy,” Blaise countered as he slid a glass of Ogden’s across the table to Draco. “It’s all in good fun. Think of it as a bonding experience, all the others are participating, even Pansy.” He whispered that last part, one eyebrow quirked.

Blaise knew well enough that the only reason Pansy was going along with I this foolishness was because she was now under the spell of her girlfriends. Draco knew better; he knew that if Pansy wasn’t shagging two-thirds of the “Silver-Trio,” as the bloody Prophet had taken to calling them, that she would be just as put out as he was.

Draco couldn’t remember whose bright idea it was to come to the new pub in Hogsmeade for karaoke night, but he was most certainly not happy about it. This was not how he wanted to spend a night out of the castle; when they returned to Hogwarts that year McGonagall had informed all the 7th and 8th years that anyone over the age of 17 would be given new privileges in light of all they had been through. Anyone of age was allowed to visit Hogsmeade at their leisure and there was to be no curfew for 8th years (7ths still had to be in bed by midnight) so long as they did not abuse their new freedom and cause a ruckus at ungodly hours. They were already on thin ice thanks to an unfortunate run-in with Peeves earlier in the month that involved the Astronomy tower, a drum kit, forty watermelons, and far, far too much alcohol. Draco did not fancy seeing McGonagall in her tartan nightdress and bonnet at 3am again.

He rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of his drink as Pansy, Loony, and the Weaslette take the stage, microphones in hand, giggling ridiculously. The music starts and Draco is aghast. Pansy and the she-Weasel are singing a ridiculous song where they’re fighting over Loony and changing the words as they go along to suit their purposes, all the while Lovegood is twirling around the little platform they’re calling a stage out of time with the music. “How is this bloody happening?” Draco wonders to himself as he downs the rest of his whisky and signals Blaise for another. Since Draco was only here at his insistence he can pay for Draco’s drinks all night, the tosser.

It takes Blaise no time at all to return with the drinks, smirking as he sets then down. “Guess who just walked in?”

“Like I care who else is making a fool of themselves tonight, I’m just here to spend your money and get pissed” Draco retorts.

“Oh, someone’s in a snit,” Blaise chirped, still smirking. “Since you don’t care about anything then you won’t mind if we have some company.” He waves towards the door as the table starts expanding, chairs popping out of the ether. Draco counts five new seats and grimaces as he hears a voice behind him.

“Cheers Blaise,” Longbottom says, plopping into a chair on the other side of the table. “Hi Draco.”

Longbottom is followed in short order by Millie, Granger, and the Weasel King. He glares at Blaise, knowing who the last chair is for. And of course it happens to be the bloody one next to him. Draco downs his near-full glass and waves it in Blaise’s face impatiently. He intends to spend a sizable portion of Blaise’s inheritance tonight as revenge for this nonsense.

“Keep your pants on Malfoy,” a voice interjects from behind as another glass of whiskey appears in front of him, the empty glass vanishing from his hand. Saint Potter slides into the only available chair, thigh brushing against Draco’s accidentally. Draco feels a charge run through him as he looks over at Potter, his green eyes crinkled at the corners. Draco lifts his glass in a silent cheers, downs it in one, and waves the newly empty glass under Blaise’s nose.

“Salazar, Malfoy, at this rate you’ll drink the bar dry,” Blaise chides.

“That’s the owner's problem, and your wallet’s, Zabini,” Malfoy replies hotly. “I intend on not remembering Parkinson’s ghastly performance in the morning, even if it kills me.”

“Draco,” Millie chimes in, voice gentle, “remember what happened last time you-“

“ _Don’t_ Mils,” Draco cuts her off sharply. He did not need to be reminded of that night. He made a big enough arse of himself on the Astronomy Tower to last five lifetimes. “I can take care of myself.”

“Is that what he calls it,” the Weasel snickered to Granger, earning himself a smack on the arm from her and the classic Malfoy glare from the blonde at the other end of the table.

“Draco, how did you find the Arithmancy reading this week?” Granger asks attempting to change the subject before wands are drawn. “I thought it was fascinating,” she started launching into a diatribe that effectively ends the argument before it gains legs.

The night goes on and Draco steadily drinks his way through the bar’s supply of fire whiskey as his classmates made utter arses of themselves and Potter keeps nattering at him. Somehow they’ve become the only two still at the table, which incidentally has shrunk back down to its original size. While Finnegan and Thomas bounce around the stage to “Bombs over Baghdad” Potter makes a crack about Seamus’ latest explosion in Transfiguration. Draco wasn’t amused that it had been his book bag that Finnegan had blown up instead of conjuring a tin can. He was a menace to the entire class and Draco did not understand how on earth he was still be enrolled in Transfiguration. Brilliantly, he tells Potter as much, not thinking that he was snipping about one of Potter’s closest friends; the man looks cowed and goes back to his drink. Draco just shakes his head, though whether it is at Potter or himself is not clear.

As Longbottom, Millie, and Terry Boot jam out to the newest Weird Sisters single Potter tries to talk to Draco about the weather, of all things. Draco just glares at him, wondering how on earth he’s managed to survive this long with such poor conversational skills. The weather, honestly.

When the Patil twins crooned to Celestina Warbeck, Potter notices Draco tapping his toe to the beat and leans over whispering conspiratorially “I didn’t know you like her too.” Draco is taken aback, and scolds himself for getting caught. He takes a breath and clears his face before responding.

“If you must know, my mother played this non-stop this summer while we were trapped in the Manor before our trials. It was the only thing that gave her comfort while we waited.” Draco didn’t know why he was telling Potter this but it was nice to finally share with someone.

Potter leans in closer to Draco, “I’m sorry to hear she was in distress. What she did last spring means a lot to me. I wouldn’t be here,” he pauses and looks around, “we all wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t done what she did.” Harry places his hand gently on Draco’s knee, not immediately noticing Draco stiffen at his touch. “Please thank her for me. And let her know if there is anything I can ever do for her all she need do is say the word.”

Draco is startled by how genuine Potter’s speech is; he wasn’t used to people just saying what they thought. As Draco looks from Harry’s face to his hand and back again, he flushes and Potter’s earnest eyes widen with the realization of what he’s doing. The loss of warmth on his thigh is uncomfortable as Potter’s hand withdraws with a mumbled apology about getting carried away. Draco curses himself internally and worries his bottom lip for being so uptight. Why can’t he be open to new possibilities? He vows not to close himself off if Potter attempts conversation a fourth time, though he can’t imagine why Potter would at this point.

Granger and the Weasel King choose the longest duet in existence, “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” and naturally he insists on doing both parts. “Not singing tonight, Draco?” Potter asks tentatively as his friends continue to sing a ridiculous song by a man who insists on being called “Meatloaf.”

Draco sniffs but answers the question, the use of his first name not escaping him, “Certainly not. I’ve no desire to give people another reason to talk about me.”

Potter chuckles, “That night on the Astronomy Tower was hilarious, but it certainly wasn’t all your fault.”

“Says you,” Draco retorts. “Sinistra still won’t look at me,” his cheeks flush at the admission, not sure why he is sharing that particular detail.

“Don’t worry mate, I have a feeling that story will go down in Hogwarts history alongside the Weasley twins. I would be proud, not embarrassed.”

Draco’s flush deepens, first at the informality of Potters address - when did they become “mates”? - and second with the complement. Draco’s stomach does a little tumble at his last comment, but _surely_ that was the alcohol. He had lost track of how much he consumed at this point, but his head was spinning something fierce. Before he can respond the magical emcee announces, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our next performer to stage, Blaise Zabini.”

There is a collective gasp from the audience as Blaise takes the stage in a bright purple suit with a white ruffled cravat, his ebony skin glowing under the spotlight that has suddenly appeared. “ **Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together to get through this thing called life** ,” Blaise starts as the organ accompanies him.

“He is bloody unbelievable” Draco mutters to himself as the bar erupts.

“I think it’s brill,” Potter counters, grinning wide. “Come on, Malfoy, let's dance,” grabbing Draco’s hand before he can protest. Before he knows it Draco is in the middle of the crowd jumping around with the rest of the Hogwarts students.

 **“Are we gonna let the elevator bring us down? Oh, no, let’s go! Let’s go crazy, let’s get nuts...”** Blaise has somehow managed to channel the spirit of Prince even though the man is still alive and is most likely located on another continent. Draco can’t help but laugh at his friend as Harry grabs his hand and starts twirling him around. Draco is breathless and more than a little drunk. He can no longer hide the smile on his face. Maybe Blaise was right, karaoke isn’t so bad.

The song ends and the bar erupts into chants of “MORE” and “ENCORE” as Blaise takes and overly-extravagant bow and saunters off stage. Draco is grinning at Harry, heart still racing, as Harry leans in close to whisper something to him. Whatever he is going to say is lost to the ether as the emcee voice returns, “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our next performer to the stage, Draco Malfoy!”

Draco freezes, face falling. Potter is still inches from his ear, still whispering, but all he can hear is his blood racing. Draco’s eyes narrow and zero in on Blaise across the bar. The bloody bastard is grinning ear to ear, and raises the tumbler of whiskey in his hand toasting Draco.

“Draco...” he hears faintly.

“WHAT?!” He snaps as Potter takes a step back, surprised.

“You’re...you’re up mate.”

“Like hell I am!” Draco realizes at this moment that everyone in the bar is looking at him. He is raging internally, debating what would be more embarrassing. His rational brain tells him don’t do it, everyone will forget in a few days if he doesn’t go up; but, the whiskey is playing devil’s advocate. “Zabini is testing you,” it taunts. “He knows you won’t do it. It’s a set up.”

“Draco, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Potter cuts in again, voice gentle. Draco doesn’t know when Harry started holding his hand but his thumb is rubbing small circles on Draco’s hand and he finds it soothes him momentarily.

“Malfoy’s never back down from a challenge,” Draco responds, more confident than he feels.

“Well if it makes you feel better, you can just sing to me,” Harry offers, squeezing his hand lightly. “Pretend they’re not here, just focus on me.” Draco is taken aback at the man’s kindness, although maybe he shouldn’t be.

Draco accios the drink from Blaise’s hand across the bar, downs it in one, arranges his face, and nods at Potter before dropping his hand, turning, and walking to the stage. He does his best not to let his legs quiver, it would not do for anyone to realize that he, a Malfoy, was nervous. Draco takes his wand and taps the magical Gramophone to play his song. He chooses a song he’s heard almost non-stop since he arrived at Hogwarts. Despite being a pure blood, Theo had a ridiculous obsession with Muggle music, and he could only listen to it at school; Draco knew more about. Muggle music from this than he was comfortable admitting.

As the music starts he can feel his heart in his throat. Blaise and Pansy are draped over each other at the bar, obviously congratulating themselves on his humiliation. Draco makes a mental note to plot a hideous and painful revenge on the pair of them. They well and truly deserve it after this one. He accios a second drink from Blaise’s hand, nearly dropping it because his palms are so sweaty, and downs it immediately. He takes a breath, scans the crowd for those green eyes, thinks “fuck it all, ”and starts bopping to the music.

**“So wild, standing there,  
with his hands in his hair”**

“Shit,” Draco thinks to himself, as someone in the crowd hoots, did I just say _he_?

**“I can’t help remember  
just where he touched me“**

“Fuck,” this time it was a wolf-whistle. I _definitely_ just said he.

Draco carries on, his classmates raucous as ever, more and more of them looking back and forth between him and Potter, realizing the tension building between the men. Draco just kept focusing on those green eyes as they stare intently back at him.

As he is staring at Potter something shifts in him. Maybe it’s the whiskey; it could be those eyes; it might even be his rage; possibly its a combination of all these things. No matter the cause Draco decides to do something reckless for himself. Just this once.

The chords change and the drum kicks as Draco changes the words to the chorus:

**“Haaarryyyyy, call on me,  
** Call on me, Haaarryyyy  
Come and see me  
I’m not the same boy I used to be” 

The bar absolutely erupts.

Draco keeps going because if he stops now he’ll run out of the bar and never stop. Impossibly, those eyes seem to be getting closer as the song continues. Before he knows it Harry is at the edge of the platform Draco is standing on. As he sings the last lines of the song, “ **I’m not the same boy I used to be** ,” he drops the microphone and jumps down, now nose to nose with Harry.

“Well Malfoy, after that performance you would have to be lying if you said you were the same as before,” Harry whispers, the corners of his mouth quirked up mischievously.

“Shut up, and kiss me,” Malfoy smirks before finally taking what he’s wanted for longer than he realizes. 


End file.
